possibly have stumbled on the truth. But no; clever she might be, but not that clever. ‘And are you going to tell me your theory?’
‘I don’t have one, not yet. Of course, you could tell me and then I would not worry about you.’
‘You worry about me?’ he queried. ‘Why?’
‘Naturally I worry about you. You are family, even if it is I don’t know how many times removed. And I am very fond of Aunt Margaret…’
‘So, it is not for my own sake?’ he asked, and wondered why he asked. Did it really matter what a chit of a girl thought of him?
‘That, too, of course.’ She smiled at him and popped a forkful of food into her mouth. ‘Tell me, Captain, just what are you about?’
He smiled suddenly. ‘I believe I am escorting a young lady to London to be with her mama.’
‘Oh, so you do think I am a lady?’ she said.
‘I do not know what else you might be. Hoyden or school-miss might be to the point, but I give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, if you have finished, we must be on our way.’
‘I should write another letter to Aunt Margaret before we go,’ she said. ‘I sent her one yesterday, but as I did not know our destination I could not be very precise. I shall tell her you are going to take me to Mama and that will set her mind to rest.’
He wondered whether it would, considering the jobation his grandmother had given him about his way of life, and decided to add his postscript to the letter assuring her he would take good care of the young lady. He could imagine the old lady’s smile when she read it; he was playing right into her hands and if Molly had not assured him otherwise he would have had no trouble believing she had concocted the whole escapade to bring him to heel.
The letter was soon written and given to the landlord to put on the mail and they went outside where three horses stood patiently waiting for their riders. He helped her to mount Jenny, then picked up the reins of Frank’s horse, which she learned was called Good Boy, and sprang nimbly into his own saddle.
They turned and rode towards Norwich, sometimes cantering and, now and again, when it was safe to do so, putting the horses to a gallop. She rode well, he noticed. He noted other things too: her softly rounded breasts and trim waist, her bright eyes, always so full of life, her pink lips and the way a strand of her hair curled so lovingly into her neck. And he asked himself what in heaven’s name he was doing with her. Frank was right—he had run mad.
When they crossed the river and entered the city, she was so diverted by the size of it, the busy streets, full of carts and carriages, the pedestrians and hawkers crying their wares and the shops and taverns, she could do nothing but gape.
‘I did not know it would be such a big place,’ she said. ‘Is it as large as London?’
‘Not quite. But it is an important centre of commerce. You will find all you need here.’
He smiled indulgently as the road took them past the castle. She pulled up her horse to stare up at its looming grey wall. ‘Is it occupied?’
‘Oh, yes, by several hundred criminals.’
‘It’s a prison?’ She shuddered, imagining the Captain being confined there, and it occurred to her that the life he led was dangerous in the extreme. If he were arrested and taken from her, what would she do? Might she be arrested too for aiding him? Adventure for adventure’s sake was suddenly not so appealing. ‘Then the sooner we leave it behind the better,’ she said.
‘We must wait for Frank and Martha. In the meantime we shall go shopping.’
‘Good,’ she said, looking down at her habit, which was so dusty and crumpled it looked as though she had slept in it. ‘I tried to get the creases out but it proved impossible.’
‘We need to refresh ourselves first and the horses need stabling,’ he said, deciding that taking her as she was into a genteel establishment to buy the things a lady needed to travel to London would invite strange looks and he could not afford to arouse curiosity.
He took her to The Bell where the rooms were superior to any they had had so far: a well-furnished bedroom and a sitting room with a table and chairs and an upholstered sofa.
While she shut herself in the bedroom to strip off her clothes and wash, he changed into pantaloons and a clean shirt, tied a fresh cravat about his neck, donned waistcoat and frockcoat and left the building.
He returned just as Molly came out of the bedchamber into the sitting room. She had asked the chambermaid to press her habit and it was a little more respectable than it had been but still bore evidence of a long ride. She had cleaned her face and now it was pink and glowing and her blue eyes sparkled. She had evidently borrowed a brush and spent some time on her hair, because it gleamed with health and she had put it up into a Grecian style, which suited her piquant face.
His grandmother had been right, he decided; Molly Martineau would one day turn heads with her beauty. She was inexperienced and that was part of her charm, but he felt his loins stirring at the sight of her and realised he was not so impervious as he’d thought he was.
‘Here,’ he said, almost embarrassed, handing her the parcel he carried. ‘Put this on. It is, I think, more suitable for a shopping expedition than a riding habit.’
She opened the package eagerly to reveal a simple round gown in turquoise muslin, with little puff sleeves and a round neck filled with lace. There was a little matching cape, white stockings, blue kid shoes and a reticule. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is very pretty. I could not have chosen anything I liked more. But will it fit?’
‘There is only one way to find out,’ he said, smiling at her enthusiasm. ‘Put it on and we will go out and buy more.’
She needed no second bidding and disappeared into the bedchamber. Twenty minutes later she emerged once again, looking very fetching and smiling happily. ‘You guessed my size exactly, Captain. How very clever of you. Except the shoes are a little tight.’
‘I am sorry about that. Perhaps you could wear your riding boots…’
‘Oh, no, that will spoil the effect. I shall manage.’
‘Madam.’ He smiled at her, offering her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’
Laughing, she laid her hand upon his sleeve and together they went out into the street and strolled towards the centre of the city to the emporium where he had bought the gown and where he knew there were other establishments offering ladies’ apparel, as well as things like fans and reticules, parasols and footwear, underwear and toiletries.
‘Kit her out with everything she needs for a stay in London,’ he told one proprietress, whose name, according to the legend above the door of her establishment, was Mrs Hannah Solomon.
‘I am to have a Season,’ Molly told her. ‘Is that not exciting?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ the woman agreed. ‘So very sensible of your uncle to buy your requirements in Norwich. The prices in London are much higher.’
Molly looked at Duncan when she mentioned her uncle and stifled a little giggle. He simply smiled and said nothing to put right the mistake.
The
